Lone Singer

The bird is singing with such enthusiasm, the one listening from the porch can be forgiven for thinking other dawns were only advertisements for the dawn at hand.

Gary DeNeal

It is dawn.

The bird is singing with such enthusiasm, the one listening from the porch can be forgiven for thinking other dawns were only advertisements for thedawn at hand.
The singer has chosen the tip of the topmost limb of a tree long past its prime. The one on the porch listens well. Even now, day is breaking forth, as indicated by trucks and cars on the highway below. Soon, tractors will be in the fields, and business owners in surrounding small towns will unlock their doors, thus inviting in the workaday world. Gears will hum, wheels will turn, radios and televisions will crackle with commercials.
None of that matters to the lone singer in the tree, or, for that matter, to the one on the porch, listening.
springhousemagazine.com